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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26833552">As We Have Done Before</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/infernal/pseuds/infernal'>infernal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Haunting of Hill House - Shirley Jackson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical themes, F/F, Ghosts, Haunting, Homecoming, Temporal Weirdness, maybe the real haunted houses were the friends we made along the way</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:54:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26833552</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/infernal/pseuds/infernal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the ghosts haunt you; sometimes you haunt the ghosts. Sometimes the house is haunted; sometimes you haunt the house. </p><p>Or: Theodora, after (and before, and during, and always).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Theodora/Eleanor "Nell" Vance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>New Year's Resolutions 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>As We Have Done Before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightonme/gifts">shinealightonme</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've been in a Hill House mood lately and decided to have a look through last year's prompts. I saw this one and before I knew it, I had a few thousand words rattling around my head. I hope you like it! Happy belated Yuletide? New Yuletide? At any rate, have a happy one! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was chilly outside, and Theodora was glad for the warmth that hit her as she walked into the old mill. She was early, apparently; by her measure, she was half an hour late, but somehow it didn't surprise her that Luke Sanderson would beat her at her own game.</p><p>She was halfway through her second cup of coffee when he arrived, snowflakes melting in his hair as he threw himself into the chair across from her. "Sorry," he began, looking almost like he meant it.  "I've been at the lawyers' all morning. Inheritance gets tangled enough when someone actually <em>wants</em> what they're inheriting. I'm not sure they know quite what to do with me."</p><p>"No luck getting rid of it, then?" she asked. </p><p>He hesitated. "I could have turned it down outright, but they wouldn't tell me who was next in line to get it. Confidentiality and all that, and I've had a devil of a time trying to find out through other means. It didn't feel right to let just anyone take it, not without them knowing what we know."</p><p>"<em>We</em> didn't know what we know," Theo pointed out; in fact, she was quite sure that she <em>still</em> didn't know. She signalled the waitress for another coffee. The warmth of the restaurant had faded as she waited for Luke, a draft from the balcony slowly chilling her, and it was only the coffee that kept her from shivering outright.</p><p>"We know now," Luke said, giving her a wry smile. "Enough, anyway, enough to keep anything from happening to anyone else." </p><p>"<em>Luke</em>," she said, letting a note of scandal creep into her tone as she matched his smile with a crooked one of her own. "Surely it hasn't been so long that you've become <em>responsible</em>." </p><p>"And you're here to help me. I think that makes us a responsible pair. <em>Respectable</em>, even."</p><p>"Rude!" Theodora said. "Unforgivably rude, you take that back."</p><p>The waitress reappeared with a cup of coffee for each of them, and Theodora took hers gratefully. "Should we order, or shall we get on with it?" Luke asked. She studied him for a moment, trying to perceive this new, quasi-responsible Luke. He looked and felt like he always had: like he breathed in the truth and held it in his lungs until it came back out as a lie. She probably shouldn't have been so glad to see that nature unchanged, but she'd been friends with that version of Luke, and if she was to return to Hill House with him, she wanted the Luke at her side to be the devil she knew.</p><p>"Let's eat," Theodora said. "You can buy me lunch to make up for leaving me here waiting." Aside from the hope that a hot meal would warm her up, there was something about the restaurant that made her want to linger.</p><p>"We'll have to eat quickly," Luke said. "The Dudleys won't be waiting for us after night falls, after all."</p>
<hr/><p>Theodora sat in her car, engine idling. Luke had insisted on driving ahead of her, leading her through the hills as though she could have ever forgotten the way. He was standing outside of his car now, speaking with Mr. Dudley, They both looked back at Theodora for a moment, and then Mr. Dudley said something to Luke and gave him a curt nod. <i>I wonder if he's just told Luke we're not expected,</i> Theodora thought with a short laugh, and turned her head towards the passenger seat to share the joke with someone who of course wasn't there.</p><p>With the greatest determination, Theodora faced forward again and ignored the large tree that beckoned for her attention, focusing instead on the bits of Hill House she could glimpse from this distance.</p><p>Luke got back into his car, looking ruffled, and drove through once the gate swung open. Theodora followed, half expecting Mr. Dudley to slam it shut onto her car. She couldn't resist rolling down the window as she slowly passed, giving him a winning smile. "I'm allowed in this time, am I?"</p><p>"Why not?" he asked. "You're expected, aren't you?"</p>
<hr/><p>It seemed somehow impossible that Theodora had never seen Hill House in the winter. The snow did nothing to soften its appearance; it unfurled itself from the hills as it always had, its disarray just as glaring in December as it had been on a sunny evening in June. </p><p>"Not exactly a Christmas card, is it?" Luke said from beside her.</p><p>"I suppose we should get on with it," Theodora said. "Mrs. Dudley will want to be getting home shortly, I'd imagine." It was only three o'clock, but the sky would be almost completely dark by six; Theodora idly wondered how Mrs. Dudley's strict schedule would be affected. "Is Doctor Montague arriving today?"</p><p>"In the morning," Luke said. "And you're right, we should go inside." </p><p>Still, they remained staring up at the house for another long moment until the door swung open before them, Mrs. Dudley looking out from within. Theodora took the first step forward. <i>One of us has to, I suppose,</i> she thought. "It's so good to see you again, Mrs. Dudley," she said cheerfully. "I had a lovely chat with your husband at the gate. It's so nice to catch up with old friends, isn't it?"</p><p>She said nothing, leading them up the stairs. She opened the door of the green room first, and Theodora put her suitcase down beside the wardrobe. </p><p>"I set dinner on the dining-room sideboard at five sharp," Mrs. Dudley began.</p><p>Theodora laughed, delighted. "Oh, Mrs. Dudley, I <em>have</em> missed you," she said.</p><p>"You can serve yourselves," she continued, and Theodora caught Luke's eye where he lingered in the hallway, his lips turned up in an honest smile.</p>
<hr/><p>After <em>everything</em>, Theodora had returned to her apartment and to her friend, and had found that as agreeable as they were, neither was the homecoming she was yearning for. It was not so with Hill House, she realized with a certain dismay as she shut the bedroom door behind her, closing herself off from Luke and Mrs. Dudley—<i>Why did I do that?</i>—and taking stock of the bedroom, just as she had left it—<i>Why did I take this room at all, and not one of the others?</i></p><p>In all the ways her agreeable little apartment had been foreign to her upon her return, the profoundly disagreeable green room was familiar. The way its ugly, faded curtains let only the dimmest light through the windowpane only drew nostalgia from Theodora, and the hues of green all over the room—too close in shade not to clash—had her smiling, even as they offended her aesthetic sensibilities. </p><p><i>I'll hate it tonight</i>, she thought, as much of a promise as a premonition. <i>I will hate it, and it will hate me, because Nell is gone and there is no one else who will love me and hate me in such perfectly equal measure while I do precisely the same thing in return.</i> And even if it weren't for Eleanor—though how could it not be—Theodora rather felt it would play out the same way anyway. Familiarity bred contempt, after all, and Theodora suspected that as familiar as Hill House felt <em>to</em> her now, it was far more familiar <em>with</em> her.</p>
<hr/><p>She talked in her sleep sometimes, her friend had often told her, and tonight she did it loudly enough to wake herself up, words still tumbling from her lips as she shot up in bed. She stared around her, seeing nothing in the darkness but still feeling the green room around her, as loathsome and loathing as she'd predicted earlier.</p><p>Dreams still clinging to her, she thought nothing of it when she crept out into the hall and saw warm light spilling out from beneath the door of the room beside hers; when she found the door unlocked, she slipped inside. <i>Nell has been too afraid to sleep in the dark, poor baby,</i> she thought, not quite unkindly, and she turned the lamp off before Eleanor could stir from sleep and see that Theodora had woken up in a similar state of fright.</p><p>The room was cold, now impossibly dark, and it hardly surprised her when Eleanor's hand reached out and caught hers as she settled into the other bed. She squeezed it reassuringly, Nellie's hand warm against the chill of the room. She leaned back against the headboard and let Eleanor hang on so tightly that Theodora could not just feel the bones that pressed against hers, but the question that rang through them: <i>Why is it dark</i>? "It's all right, my Nell," Theodora said. "It's just me, I'm here, you don't need to be afraid this time, there's nothing in the darkness but me."</p><p>In a grip this tight, she could feel Eleanor's pulse beat rapidly against her skin, and she squeezed her hand again. "It's all right, Nellie, you can go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you, but it's really all right," she said, murmuring sleepy reassurances and squeezing her hand occasionally whenever she felt another burst of fear jolt through her.</p><p>It was only when she heard a scream that she came fully awake, remembering—remembering <em>everything</em>, and she sat on the side of the bed and stared into the dark at the one beside it, knowing without seeing that it was empty. Her hand still throbbed from the bone-crushing grip, and her pulse was as hummingbird fast as Eleanor's had been. Slowly, she brought her other hand up and felt the skin on the back of her hand, and then the palm; there were five crescent-shaped grooves where Eleanor's fingernails had found purchase.</p>
<hr/><p>Dr. Montague didn't arrive that morning, nor the next. "Mrs. Montague mustn't have allowed him a day pass," Theodora said glibly over breakfast. </p><p>Luke helped himself to more eggs; there were plenty, as if Mrs. Dudley had yet to realize she was only meant to be cooking for two now. He made a face. "You don't suppose she's coming with him, do you?"</p><p>"At least if she brought Arthur, we'd have more help…" She trailed off, her hand frozen halfway back to her plate. "Luke, why <em>do</em> you need our help?"</p><p>"It's too big a house to set right on my own," he said, explaining with the patience of someone who'd already explained it before. She supposed he had, when he wrote to her, but the words had not sounded like the Luke Sanderson she knew; hearing them from him now, they didn't <em>feel</em> like him, either. "And I couldn't bring anyone who hadn't been here before, you know."</p><p>"I know," she said, "I know <em>that</em>, but then why haven't we <em>done</em> anything yet? We haven't… scrubbed the walls, or packed things into boxes, or done whatever it is you're meant to do when you're putting a house in order. We've just been gallivanting around like we did before, like nothing ever happened." <i>I love my love with an E because she is the elephant in the room,</i> she thought grimly.</p><p>"I—" Luke stared into his coffee, looking troubled. "It's just the routine of it, probably. We're getting comfortable here again, and that means falling back into old habits." <i>Are we getting</i> comfortable <i>here again</i>? Theodora thought, and then, <i>Are we getting comfortable </i>here<i> again</i>?</p><p>"You're right," Luke finally said, firmly. "We'll get things sorted. Once Doctor Montague gets here, we'll see everything put to rights."</p><p><i>Are we getting comfortable here</i> again, Theodora thought, and nodded as she pushed aside her plate.</p>
<hr/><p>Lunch looked like a rather unseasonable affair when Theodora came downstairs, all summer fruits and cold soups and light, sweet cakes. <i>We will have our picnic</i>, she thought with conviction, and packed hard-boiled eggs into a basket, and spread chicken salad on thick slices of bread, wrapping them in a few napkins—Mrs. Dudley would be sure to notice their absence from the linen drawers, but Theodora was hardly concerned about that right now. <i>In for a penny</i>, she thought, and packed a tablecloth into her picnic basket as well.</p><p>Despite the snow and the general gloom, it was almost pleasant as Theodora made her way through the snow. She closed her eyes as she walked, her feet certain of the path, and felt the sun on her face; when she opened them again, it was June again. She saw something move out of the corner of her eye and smiled, knowing that if she turned, she would see Eleanor beside her, bright as summer in her red sweater. </p><p>As she strolled she heard, unexpectedly, the sounds of a family laughing together, the insistent yipping of a small dog. <i>People from town</i>, she thought with surprise, some thread of familiarity nagging at her as she wondered what brought the notoriously avoidant Hillsdale crowd their way. "I suppose we'll have to find another spot for our picnic," she said aloud, and felt a hand brush her own.</p><p>It had been a scream that broke her from her reverie the other night; it was the memory of one that shook her free now. "Don't look back," she heard herself say, "don't look back," and Theodora was filled with dread, certain that if she looked she would meet her own horrified gaze. Instead, she finally turned to lock eyes with Eleanor, who had been waiting all this time with uncharacteristic patience, out of sight but never straying far.</p><p>There was no dog barking, no family playing, no sweet smell of grass in the air, no echoes of her own fear chasing her. The false summer had not returned the winter as it faded. There was nothing left in Theodora's senses but Hill House, its presence behind her as invidious and enveloping as ever, and Eleanor, before her, her eyes the same sad blue-gray color as their bedroom when the morning sun filtered drearily through the curtains. Her lips were moving; Theodora thought at first that she was trying to speak, or perhaps scream, then realized it was more of a tremble. "Are you cold?" she asked foolishly. The trembling stopped as Eleanor regarded her. "Are you hungry, Nellie? We're going to have our picnic, see?"</p><p>Eleanor smiled, then, and reached out towards Theodora. The terrible coldness that had carved its way into her bones over the last few days departed at once, the normal sting of winter settling in its place, biting at the bits of skin her jacket didn't cover and reminding her of herself. She felt for a moment as though Hill House had withdrawn, that it no longer lurked behind her to peer over her shoulder. She turned for a moment to see if it was still there—and it was, of course, standing as it had always stood. It was Eleanor who stood there no longer, gone when Theodora turned back towards the garden.</p>
<hr/><p>"There are two napkins missing from the drawer," Mrs. Dudley said. "Two napkins and a tablecloth. They're supposed to be in the drawer before I set supper out. I had to set it out without them."</p><p>"Don't fret, Mrs. Dudley, I'll look for them in the morning," Luke said to appease her, and shot a conspiring look Theodora's way. She was too exhausted to catch it, hungry from the lunch she hadn't eaten, drained from her walk. </p><p><i>I will leave tomorrow,</i> she thought. <i>I am going to take Luke and drag him out of here kicking and screaming until we're far enough away that he is himself again. When we reach the city we will call the doctor and tell him that this was a fool's errand and to enjoy his retirement in peace, and we will tell Luke's lawyers to give the house to whatever hapless soul is looking for a fool's errand of their own, and we will feel no guilt about it because we are not responsible people, nor are we respectable people. I will make Luke go back to Paris and I'll make him pay my way too, and we will drink ourselves into a stupor each night with the pretty French girls who fall all over themselves to hear our silly tales of haunted houses, and we will never speak of the elephant in the room—</i></p><p>There was a knock at the door, and they both froze for a moment before they heard Dr. Montague's familiar voice greeting Mrs. Dudley.</p><p>"<i>There</i> he is," Luke said, springing up from his chair. Theodora followed, her plan already thoroughly derailed, and looked curiously at the doctor for a moment. If she was exhausted, he looked downright bone-weary, something harried and dispirited about his demeanor. He was grayer than he had been before—it hadn't been that long, just a year and a half, but perhaps time had weighed on him more heavily than it should have, like it had for her and Luke both.</p><p>Dr. Montague greeted Luke warmly, and then turned that warmth upon her. "Theodora," he said, taking her hand. "I trust you've been well?"</p><p><i>Don't trust anything about me,</i> she thought. <i>Don't trust Luke, and certainly don't trust yourself. Not here</i>. The urge to clasp his hand tight, grab Luke with the other, and haul them both to the unwelcoming respite of Hillsdale would have overwhelmed her, if only Hill House had allowed it to.</p><p>"As well as can be," she said, without an ounce of dishonesty; she was, after all, as well as she <em>could</em> be. "It's good to see you again, Doctor. How has retirement been treating you?"</p>
<hr/><p>The men played chess, and Theodora sat with the remnants of a glass of wine, tipping her head back against the back of her armchair. Eleanor had liked to look at her like this, jealousy and admiration inextricably tangled together, and Theodora had liked it when she looked, almost as much as she liked looking back.</p><p>She felt calm now, the tension and terror of the day seeping away as she sat by the fire and drank her wine and listened to Luke and Dr. Montague get caught up. <i>Are we getting comfortable here again</i>? The doctor already looked better than he had upon his arrival just hours before. She did too, she was sure. Luke certainly did, the stress of dealing with legal complexities all but faded away. It was strange that after <i>everything</i>, that Hill House should put any of them at ease. But whatever its designs, it wanted them to be comfortable in this moment, and Theodora hadn't felt comfortable in months, if not longer, and so she sipped the last of her drink and closed her eyes and sang lightly to herself.</p><p>She quieted down to a hum to listen to the conversation when it turned to the poor reception of Dr. Montague's publication. "It's good to be back here," he said abruptly. "What we experienced is so far beyond the realm of understanding—beyond what scientific understanding is willing to tolerate, yes, but it's also far beyond what spiritualists will tolerate. Even the incomprehensible is meant to follow some sort of universal order, and Hill House simply refuses to do so. I am quite certain that the only people who could understand what happened are in this room with me right now." </p><p>"Does that mean planchette will not be gracing us with its presence this evening?" Luke asked dryly, and Theodora opened her eyes just in time to see the doctor laugh, his smile crinkling up all the way into the corners of his eyes. <i>Look, my Nell, look at us all finally happy again, now that we are here, We belong here, because you belong here, and because we belong to you</i>, she thought.</p><p>"What's that you're singing, Theo?" Luke asked, and she smiled, humming a little louder to see if he could catch the tune. "Speak up, I think you still owe me a song or two." </p><p>"It's just some children's song I picked up from somewhere," she said, but she stood up obligingly and walked closer, singing louder. She made a little production of it, twirling as she sang of valleys and doors and lovers, and Luke laughed and Dr. Montague smiled, and the room felt warm, pleased, even as Theodora felt eyes on her back where eyes could not be.</p>
<hr/><p>It being his first night back in Hill House, Dr. Montague left his door open while he stayed up to read, just in case. When he appeared at breakfast in the morning he looked fully rejuvenated. "It's shockingly easy to fall back into old routines, isn't it?" he asked, sitting in his usual place.</p><p>"Luke said much the same the other morning," Theodora said. She thought, again, of how Luke wrote to ask for her keen eye to help appraise the various items he planned to sell; how he said he was asking Dr. Montague to come along as well, because while the logistics of packing and moving the items in any house required skilled manpower, the logistics of packing and moving the items in Hill House required a different kind of expertise.</p><p>She thought, again, of how Luke had brought no boxes in his car for packing things. He'd brought nothing at all save the same suitcase he'd hefted up the stairs on that first day here, and haphazardly thrown into the trunk of his car on that last day. She thought, again, of how she had heard no word from him since then until his letter, postmarked not from Paris but from Hillsdale, announcing his homecoming alongside his invitation.</p><p>"I say a good many things," Luke said as he entered the dining room. "Some of them are even clever. Which of my proverbs are we discussing?"</p><p>"Oh, there are <em>so</em> many, it's hard to recall," Theodora said. She hadn't felt playful at the start of the sentence, but her mood had changed by the time she reached the end of it. Luke and Dr. Montague were right, falling into old routines really was the easiest thing in the world, aside from how Hill House was the only place she'd ever managed to do it. Typically, Theodora grew restless and moved on to the next thing; typically, Theodora did not put down roots, and yet here she was, as firmly tangled in the house as it was in her. "Perhaps it was the time you said we should burn down the house?"</p><p>"I'm afraid our dear Hill House heard me say that," Luke said. His tone was joking, but when his eyes met hers they were sober, troubled, horribly aware. Theodora remembered, suddenly, an old school friend who had spent his summers as a lifeguard. <i>The most dangerous part of a rescue isn't the waves, or the current, or the weather,</i> he had told her. <i>It's the person you're rescuing. They react on instinct, and they don't realize they're pulling you down until you're both drowning.</i> </p><p>"Did it really," Theodora asked, as if she could not feel Hill House now, rapt with attention, hanging on their every word.</p><p>Luke smiled thinly. "Of course. That's why it's trying to burn us up first."</p>
<hr/><p>As familiar as she was by now with the house, there were still surprises to find. Theodora found herself in a hallway she was certain she had never walked down before—and if she had, there certainly hadn't been a door ajar, dusty canvases stacked alongside a lopsided easel, little jars of paint with faded labels stacked on a desk nearby. She walked to the window beside the easel to see what part of the landscape some past artist had thought worth preserving, and she snorted when she saw it wasn't the creek, or the garden, or the mountains, but the tower.</p><p>She heard Luke's footsteps long before he found her, eventually poking his head in and raising his eyebrows as he took in the room's contents. "I'm here for my portrait, Madame," he said, bowing gallantly.</p><p>"Unlikely," she said, tossing one of the little jars to him. He unscrewed it, and she laughed as his face twisted at the spoiled, acrid smell. "I believe these predate us beautiful young things." </p><p>"I believe these predate all of humanity," Luke said, hurriedly twisting the cap back on. "I think we found how God Himself spent his free time on the seventh day."</p><p>Theodora caught the jar when he tossed it back to her and set it back down in its place on the desk, then decided to rummage through the drawers in search of better treasures. She let out a triumphant sound as she opened a case of soft pastels, a little dried out, but usable. There was paper in the drawer as well; it was yellowing at the edges, but it was thick, high quality stuff, and her fingers itched to make a mess of it. "Now these I <em>can</em> do your portrait with, if you'd like," she said, holding up the case.</p><p>"Shall I model for you?" he asked, and Theodora could see the moment he remembered their game, because it was the same moment she did. <i>"I am by profession an artist's model. I live a mad, abandoned life, draped in a shawl and going from garret to garret,"</i> the Eleanor in her memory whose eyes were not blue-gray said.</p><p>Theodora managed a tight smile. "Best not," she said. "I work better from memory anyway."</p>
<hr/><p>It was bright outside, and cold as ever, but Theodora pulled her gloves off anyway and sat down to sketch—just shapes at first, as she warmed up, and once she felt up to snuff, she began to draw Hill House as it stood before her.</p><p>No wonder whichever Crane or Sanderson had positioned their easel to look at the least appealing scenery for miles, Theodora thought some hours later, with most of the paper balled up beside her, thoroughly spoiled by her attempts. It would be the ultimate challenge for any artist: painting the impossible lines and defiant asymmetry of Hill House, capturing the mien of some cruel and clever creature slumbering with one eye open. </p><p>She scowled down at the last remaining piece of paper, and this time when she sketched, she drew different forms instead. After a few minutes, the general shape of a man appeared, and a few minutes later it had resolved into the general shape of Luke, rakish and sly. Next came the doctor; she hesitated only for a moment before drawing him not as the beleaguered man he had appeared to be upon his arrival, but with the alertness and good cheer he had shown ever since.</p><p>Her own likeness was easy enough to capture, given how often she saw it in the mirror. Eleanor's likeness was easier, given how often she saw it when she closed her eyes, and how often it found cause to linger even when her eyes were open.</p><p>With the four of them on the page already, depicting Hill House suddenly became a simple task. Its unsettling angles found a certain order as it grew around them with each stroke of the crayon, wholly illogical but no longer lacking context. </p><p>She arrived at supper late, her cheeks flushed and fingers numb from the winter air. "I've done your portrait, Luke," she said, and handed it to him as she made her way to the sideboard for her meal. "I hope you don't mind that it's a family one."</p><p>"You've done an excellent job," he said. "Just the right amount of unseemly dread, as befits a portrait on the hallowed walls of this house, and yet we still make a handsome group. I wonder if the Dudleys can dig us up a frame." </p><p>"This is very well done," Dr. Montague said, impressed, and Theodora realized he and Luke had never seen her sketches before. Nor had Eleanor, for that matter. After all, they had spent only a handful of days in each other's company, and Theodora's pencils hadn't left her suitcase on either visit. "Although," he continued, sounding troubled and thoughtful. "Eleanor's eyes were darker, I believe." </p><p>He was right, because in Theodora's memory, Eleanor's eyes <em>were</em> darker; and he was wrong, because in her memory, Eleanor's eyes were the same wan blue-gray that stained Theodora's hands now. She gave him a tight smile like she'd given Luke earlier and held up her hands so he could see the smudges. "I'm afraid my palette was rather limited," she said. "I was working with the best Hill House had to offer."</p><p>"Of course," he said, and then, hurriedly, "It <em>is</em> an excellent picture."</p>
<hr/><p>Theodora stirred slowly in the dead of night, blinking confusedly into the darkness for a moment and wondering what had woken her. A hand held hers, she realized; the thumb stroked her palm gently, and the fingernails dug into the same crescent-shaped impressions they had pressed into her skin the other night. "Nell," she said, sleepy and cross with it, "go back to bed, silly."</p><p>"It's time to get up," she heard. There was no reason for Eleanor's voice to sound so far away, Theodora thought, not when she was clearly just a hair's breadth away.</p><p>"All right," she said at last. "Where are we going?"</p><p>Eleanor led her through the halls of Hill House, though by now she needed no guide. With each step, Theodora woke up a little more; <i>Eleanor shouldn't be here because she can't be here</i>, she thought as she started down the stairs. <i>I shouldn't be here because I</i> can <i>be here</i>, she thought on the landing. By the time they had reached the bottom step, she was perhaps the most awake she had been since arriving days ago, or perhaps since arriving months ago, or perhaps since she sat in a laboratory identifying each card the lab assistant drew and something in the universe sat up and took notice. <i>I was often cruel to Eleanor</i> she remembered as they reached the front door, which hung open invitingly, <i> and Eleanor was often cruel to me.</i> How had she forgotten that? <i>And Eleanor loved me, and I loved to be loved.</i></p><p><i>Are</i> we <i>getting comfortable here again?</i></p><p>"I love my love with a T because she is terrible," Eleanor's voice said in her ear, and Theodora choked out a laugh. When she met Eleanor's eyes again, it was too dark to see their color.</p><p><i>I would give anything for them to be the right shade again,</i> she thought desperately, fervently, even as she wondered precisely which shade she meant. "I love my love with an E because she is everything," she said. <i>Nellie, my Nell, I would. I will. I always would have.</i></p><p>Eleanor's gaze softened, and her mouth trembled again, though Theodora knew this time it was not from the cold. She moved closer. Her hand was on Theodora's again—had it ever left? Surely it had left at some point, but it seemed to Theodora that Eleanor had always been holding it, leading her through the winding halls of Hill House, and that she might keep doing so endlessly.</p><p>The door shut itself with a bang that echoed with a terrible crack through the house—sending Luke shooting up out of bed in a confused stupor, and Dr. Montague running into the hallway, seconds and minutes and days and sprawling years too late—and beyond, some miles away, startling Mrs. Dudley out of a sound sleep while Mr. Dudley's dreams turned fitful beside her. What frightened them all, Theodora could not say, because the sound never reached her ears. There was only Eleanor, before her, and Hill House, behind her, its presence as invidious and enveloping as ever.</p>
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